The Simmering Cauldron
by Ebony Dark'ness Dementia R-Way
Summary: Harry Potter is 15 years old, experiencing everything normal 15 year old boys do- but with one slight difference. His crush is one of his teachers! As Harry plans how to win over his teacher, someone else is planning how to win over Harry... How will the innocent teenager cope with being part of this convoluted love triangle? Rated M for later content
1. Chapter 1

Harry sat in the potions classroom, vapours rising in multi-coloured swirls above the brewing cauldrons. He was sweating but not, he knew, because he was warm.

Ron sat to his left, gazing in horror at the concoction he had somehow managed to create in his second hand, partially rusted old cauldron, whilst Hermione, on his right, was mixing feverously as she tried with all her might to get the potion perfect. Glancing across the classroom, Harry caught sight of Neville, who was almost in tears as he struggled through the lesson. A small bubble of pity rose into his chest, but was immediately quashed as he caught sight of the one he had been looking for.

Severus Snape emerged from the storage cupboard, his dark eyes sweeping across the classroom, lank hair framing his sallow face. His nose, large and hooked, was scrunched slightly in distaste as he looked at the mass of students assembled before him, working desperately to perfect what he knew they couldn't. Throwing what he had collected from the cupboard onto his desk, he took to prowling around the classroom. He did not notice Harry watching him as he moved around the classroom, breathing menacingly down the necks of the terrified students.

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore resided in his office. He had spent so long that year attempting to stay out of Harry's way, but when he heard him calling for him in the corridors as he swept past, pretending not to hear the anguished cries on the teenage boy… He wondered, so many times, how Harry would take it when he eventually made his move- how would he react? Dumbledore rubbed his eyes- he was exhausted. He stayed up until late into the night, thinking about Harry, and when he could no longer take being within the same walls as him, he disappeared for as long as it took to get his head back on straight. He had not felt this way since his own teenage years, locked in his bedroom planning world domination with Gellert Grindlewald. He still thought about his old teenage crush sometimes, wondered what could have been- if Gellert had not brought about the death of Albus' beloved sister Ariana. Albus shook his head. He could not think about Gellert now, nor ever again- he must focus on the problem at hand.

**A little taster of an idea that popped, quite suddenly, into my head as I sat in one of my free periods. I don't know if I'll develop this story yet; let me know what you think, and if you want to see more! **

**From, Dementia xxx666xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

"Harry, come on," moaned Ron over the loud rumbles of his stomach. "Why do you always have to take so long packing away nowadays?"

"What do you mean?" snapped Harry, blushing. "I take the same amount of time I always have."

Ron continued to complain without noticing Harry's brief outburst, but Hermione eyed him in quiet confusion. Harry did not return her gaze, but finished throwing his things into his bag and then began to dawdle out of the Potions room. The Potions master himself was in the store cupboard again, and Harry wanted to see him one more time before he had to leave the close proximity that was maintained throughout his Potions lessons.

"Harry, because of you I bet all the chicken legs will be gone," grumbled Ron.

"Of course they won't, Ronald. You should stop eating so many of those anyway, it can't be good for you," said Hermione, rolling her eyes at the greedy nature of her friend.

"Stop eating so many of them?" asked Ron, looking scandalised.

To everyone's relief, there was still enough chicken legs to placate Ron, and so they didn't have to put up with his constant wining anymore. Harry, although he had a bowl of his favourite trifle in front of him, did not eat. He played with the food in his bowl, turning it into an unappetising mess. His mind was not on food. It was far away, imagining the things he could do with Snape, if only he were allowed, if only Snape liked him back, and did not despise him for who his father was.

Harry often thought about his father as well. He wished that he and Snape had not hated each other as they did, wished his father had no endangered Snape's life, but more than anything he wished Snape would not compare him so to his father. He was _not_ his father. Wasn't this strange desire for the man who hated him proof of that?

Hermione noticed Harry's absent mood, but did not comment. She decided to keep an eye on things, and figure out for herself why he was suddenly behaving so strangely. It could not just be stress from the OWLs which were nearly upon them- she knew it had to be something else, but she could not, for now, decide what it could be.

Ron, meanwhile, was busy stuffing chicken into his already full mouth as though it was going out of style. He did not notice Harry's mood, nor did he notice Hermione, who kept throwing him looks of purest disgust for the way he was throwing down the food on his plate. Harry might be having sordid thoughts about their Potions master, but Ron was already in a loving relationship- he and his chicken were meant to be.

Albus Dumbledore did not appear in the Great Hall for dinner. He was staying away from anywhere that would bring Harry within his sights. Snape did not appear either, and Albus knew why- Snape was currently prowling up and down in front of Albus' desk, thinking him to be paying close attention to what was being said.

"-furthermore, Potter has become even more absent minded in lessons, if you can believe that Professor; I do not know what he is playing at, but he takes longer to pack away at the end of each lesson. I was in the store cupboard today, checking through my vials, and could hear even Weasley complaining about it, and he is not exactly a bright student- quite the opposite, in fact. Potter shall not pass his examinations with this head on- not that I expect him to pass a majority of them anyway, for he is exactly like his no good father, just as arrogant and pig headed-"

"Severus, please," said Albus, holding up his hand to show that he had heard enough.

Whilst Albus could not show it, whenever Snape came into his office and began ranting about Harry, he had the desperate urge to throw him out of the window. But he could not betray anything other than a sign of friendly concern for Harry; he could just imagine what would happen if he did.

"Severus, Harry is a very bright young man. I do not worry about him passing his OWLs. I am more concerned about the growing connection that Voldemort and Harry seem to be having. It was not weak last year, and has been growing more powerful ever since Voldemort's return. I know that Harry has been experience severe pain in his scar, and that he is experiencing also strange visions which show him to be around or to actually be Voldemort when Voldemort is at his most dangerous. I think he is merely stressed about this, as well as the upcoming exams and the danger in which Sirius is. Please, do not attempt to undermine him at every turn. Harry is still just 15 years old, and he is suffering from stress which some grown men will never understand."

"Again you defend him, Dumbledore. Again, he is more important than anyone else!"

"Severus, enough," snapped Albus, who had now risen to his feet behind his desk and was looking altogether very alarming. "I do not wish to hear another word against Harry Potter from you. We both know the reasons why he is important- the prophecy, Severus, must I remind _you_ about that? You promised me, when Lily Evans was murdered, that you would look over her son, but you do nothing but make his life that bit more difficult than it already is."

Snape had blanched when Lily had been mentioned, and was already walking to the door when Albus finished speaking.

"It was low of you to remind me of those nights," said Snape quietly, looking at the floor.

"It was necessary, I think," replied Albus, sitting back at his desk.

"It is not necessary to remind me of my mistakes Dumbledore. It is cruel."

And with that, Snape stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him and waking several of the old portraits.

Albus sat with his elbows resting on his desk and his head in his hands. He knew it had been cruel to remind Snape of his perished love, but he had been furious at the accusations pointed at his own love. He knew he was too old and much to wise to have been pulled into the need for revengeful words- he had seen too much for such childish behaviour- but in the moment, he had been overcome, and whilst he regretted his outburst, he was almost certain Snape would not bring up complaints about Harry with him again.

**Dementia- Here you go, chapter two :) This has provided one hell of a release from my own life at the minute, and I hope you all enjoy the read :) xxx666xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

"You have failed once again to hand in your homework on time, Potter," snarled Snape, glaring at the teenage boy in front of him

Harry remained motionless, staring at his feet, occasionally glancing up for a second or so into Snape's furious face, his heart beating frantically, threatening to burst from his rib cage. He had taken to not completing his homework on time, as he knew that this would make Snape angry and he would therefore wish to have a private conversation about Harry's lack of commitment to the lessons.

"As a result," continued Snape, "You have a week of detentions, beginning tomorrow. You will be here, in this dungeon, by 5pm."

"But that's dinner time, sir," said Harry, his mouth dry.

"I do not care, you will miss your dinners for a week- two hours detention every night, here in this dungeon, for a week, do you understand, Potter?" barked Snape furiously.

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, keeping his head bowed.

"Get out of my dungeon. I shall see you here tomorrow, 5 o' clock. Do not be late, Potter."

Harry took his cue and left the dungeon, dragging his feet as he went in an attempt to send more time in the presence of Snape.

"Out!" barked Snape, and Harry ran from the room, both terrified and elated.

For two hours of the next seven days, Harry would be alone, totally alone, with his forbidden love! But Snape was acting even more furious with Harry than he usually did, and Harry took this as a sign that Snape's feelings, far from intensifying, seemed to be changing, and Harry thought that he must be scared by these feelings and, as a result, was trying to mask them by acting even more horrible than he usually did.

Harry could not have been further from the truth; Snape was struggling more every day with concealing his strong feelings for Harry, that was true- but they were not feelings of love. Snape was growing to hate Harry even more than he had every thought possible. Since his conversation with Dumbledore, however, he had tried not to appear any different towards the pig-headed boy, had tried to treat him with the same disgust and distain as he usually did; however he could not help, at times, with sudden outbursts in which his temper got the better of him. He only hoped that Dumbledore would not get wind of his treatment of Potter; he was in no mood for another Potter related argument.

It seemed that Severus Snape would get his wish. Albus had locked himself in his office, and was not taking his usual strolls through the castle and the grounds with his staff, learning how to pupils were doing. He was trying to avoid any situations which would bring him into close proximity to Harry, and so he had no clue that Snape was treating him even more horribly than usual, or that Harry was currently an hour into his first detention with Snape.

"Albus?"

The Scottish accent reached Albus' ears quickly, causing him to jump and knock over the delicate, spindly ornament he had been examining. Minerva McGonagall was outside his office, knocking repeatedly on his door.

"Minerva, I regret to inform you that I am busy at the moment; I suggest you return later," he said, trying to sound polite, despite being irritated at being pulled out of his reverie.

"Albus, you must stop this obsessing in your office. The staff have not seen you at the high table in weeks, they are beginning to grow worried. What will happen if You-Know-Who hears that the great Dumbledore has become a recluse, and is no longer leaving his office? He will think Hogwarts will be his for the taking, without any fight from you!" she called, sounding both annoyed and scared.

"Minerva, you are being ridiculous. Voldemort will not find out that I have taken to my office these past few weeks; and he will certainly not try to take Hogwarts, at least not yet. Now please, I am a very busy man and have no time for such nonsense."

Minerva took the heavy hint, and left him to his thoughts, shaking her head as she went. She had become increasingly worried with the lack of appearance Albus was showing, but he could not be bothered with her worries now. They were pointless anyway, compared to his own. He was trying so hard to stay respectable, to leave Harry to be a teenage boy and not defile him- but it was getting ever more difficult to ignore the urges.

"What am I to do?" groaned Albus, sinking into his chair and putting his head in his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was attending his last detention with Snape. He had spent two hours every day for the past week trying so hard to concentrate on the task at hand, but his heart was thumping erratically, and his palms were sweating. Whenever he had to speak to Snape, which was very little, his voice was hoarse in his dry mouth. He loved being in such a close proximately to Snape, but he was terrified to do anything that might reveal his feelings. He was convinced, however wrongly, that Snape felt the same way, and so he was certain that his love was not to be unrequited should he attempt to make a move. He was still too terrified to do so, however; he had never been brave when it came to love. He could face Lord Voldemort any day of the week, although he would very much prefer not to, but when confronted with this, he was rendered useless.

"Have you not finished yet, Potter?" spat Snape, his voice ringing coldly across the dungeon.

Harry shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

"Almost, Professor," he said, voice sounding quiet but still echoing around the empty dungeon.

"Well, hurry up. I have something else I need you to do when you finish with that, and I do not want it to be incomplete when you leave here today," he said, the threat in his voice obvious even to the most oblivious idiot- but Harry did not perceive the threat.

"Yes, Professor," he mumbled, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks.

He finished that task quickly, moving onto the next one in order to please his professor, but Snape was not impressed.

"If you have not completed that properly, I shall report you to Professor McGonagall. You are just as lazy as your good for nothing father," spat Snape vehemently.

"He wasn't a good for nothing," said Harry; even though he wished his father had not been so cruel to Snape, he still could not contain his unhappiness when Snape was rude about his father.

"He was a no good swine," hissed Snape through his teeth, "And you are the spitting image of him!"

"I am _not_ the spitting image of him!" cried Harry.

"You are in every way your father's son, Potter, an d I shall not have you contradicting me! Now complete the task I have given you and get out!"

"Stop it!" shouted Harry suddenly, feeling torn between his love for Snape and his loyalty to his father. "I am not anything like my father, if you bothered to get to know me even a little bit you'd see that!"

"How dare you," said Snape quietly.

Harry fell silent, regretting his outburst. He stood motionless as Snape advanced upon him, eyes blazing furiously. Snape stopped just in front of Harry so that they were face to face. Harry could feel Snape's breath on him as he stood there, furiously trying to contain the anger he felt at the impertinent teen.

"You will never address me in such a manner again, do you understand me, Potter?" asked Snape menacingly.

Harry's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. He was trying to make his brain work, but it wouldn't obey what he was telling it to do. In a moment, he had lunged at Snape, kissing him passionately on the lips.

It was over in less than a second. Snape withdrew furiously, disgust flawing the features that Harry had so long admired. He stared at Harry, eyes narrowed, as Harry stood there, lips still slightly puckered, glasses ever so slightly knocked to one side. Snape struggled to contain his anger, knowing that Dumbledore would not be best pleased is one of his professors struck the Chosen One around the ear, but too late did this thought enter his mind. Snape struck Harry hard around his head, knocking the stunned boy to the floor, causing his glasses to spin off and break.

"Get out!" shouted Snape. "Get out, get out!"

Harry grabbed his broke glasses and ran from the room, confusion burning through his body. He didn't understand, but he realised that he had been horribly, horribly wrong; Snape did not love him in return.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry did not attend his potions lessons for the rest of the week. He stayed alone in his dorm, silent and broken, trying not to weep. Ron and Hermione recognised that something was seriously wrong, but from experience knew not to push the subject. They left him relatively to himself, only dragging him down to dinner in the Great Hall every evening.

Snape did not chase up why Harry was no longer attending potions lessons. He was perfectly happy for the detestable child to stew in his own unhappiness and regret, just as long as Dumbledore did not find out what had happened. He knew that if Dumbledore realised, then he, Snape, would be the one in trouble, and not Harry, despite it being Harry who had behaved so disrespectfully. Of course, Snape was conveniently overlooking the fact that he had hit Harry, and had caused him physical pain, not just emotional.

Meanwhile, Hermione was close to figuring out what was wrong with Harry. True, she had left him relatively to his own devices, but she had not stopped trying to find out what was going on with him, in her usual, quiet, contemplative way. She had sussed out that Harry was in love with someone, and that this someone did not love him back- she knew a little something about feelings, and she knew how to decipher what other people were feeling; she was, after all, the brightest witch of her age, and not only in lessons. Therefore, she had realised that Harry was in some sort of relationship turmoil, and she had guessed that it was someone forbidden that he longed for, as he gave no indication of his liking any of the students in the school, and Hermione could not figure out who exactly Harry was in love with.

Dumbledore was also staying very much to himself. He stayed alone in his office and rooms, talking only to Fawkes and ignoring the continued grumbles of the portraits around the room. When he grew tired of them, he took Fawkes and retired to his room, where there were no portraits to annoy him. There had once been, of course, but he had long since removed them so that he might have somewhere in the castle where he could be alone. He contemplated very deeply the issue he was having with Harry, and realised that he was missing the young boy- he had not spoken to or even seen him in so long, and he was missing their long conversations in which he, Dumbledore, was able to enlighten Harry on some subjects.

Dumbledore realised also that soon he would have to call Snape once more into his presence; he knew that Snape was avoiding him, and he wished to know why. He understood that Snape did not realise Dumbledore had even noticed that anything was wrong, but Dumbledore was, after all, the greatest wizard of all time, and he knew everything that went on within the castle- almost everything. He did not know what had transpired between one of his professors and his favourite student, and he did not know that his favourite student was currently locked up, alone in his dorm, refusing the company of his peers and missing out on numerous potions lessons. Dumbledore did not know these things, and did not seek to know them.

Ron was sitting in the Great Hall with Hermione, who was in silent contemplation. It was lunch time, and Harry had declined to join them. Whilst Hermione considered this fact and pieced together the clues she had gathered about Harry's current behaviour, Ron was less focused on his best friend's unhappiness. Whilst he had talking with Hermione on the way down about Harry and what could possibly be bothering him, he had soon put the matter to the back of his mind. Ron had spotted his favourite food on the table, and was currently filling himself very full of chicken.


	6. Chapter 6

"Harry? Harry, you can't stay locked up in there forever!"

Hermione was hammering on the door of the fifth year Gryffindor boy's dorm, where Harry had locked himself. He had disappeared not long after dinner that night, and hadn't resurfaced. Neville had come running down to Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the common room around half an hour later to tell them that he couldn't get into the dorm, no matter how hard he tried. Hermione rather thought he hadn't been trying hard enough- as much as she liked Neville, she did think him a little bit slow sometimes- and so she consented to try and get the door open. She suspected she would probably be able to open it in a couple of minutes, tops; she was quite good with magic. However, she had suspected wrongly, as half an hour later she had taken to hammering on the door- none of her magic had worked to get the door open.

"I can if I want to!" came Harry's defiant call, slightly muffled; Hermione recognised that he seemed to be crying.

"Don't be so silly, Harry! Just let me in!"

"No!"

"Look. If you want, Ron won't even come in. You can just talk to me about what's wrong, and if you want that I promise I won't tell anyone. Ok, Harry? I _promise!_"

There was silence on the other side of the door. Ron began to talk, but Ginny delivered a swift hit to his gut, and he quickly became silent again. Both girls realised that it was important to let Harry come to the decision himself.

Five minutes passed, but Harry did indeed come to his decision. Slowly, he got off the bed and directed his wand at the door, which unlocked instantly. Ginny held Ron back, as he was showing every sign of barging into the room, and eventually Harry opened the door. Hermione looked at him anxiously; his black hair was messier than usual, and his eyes were red with dark circles under them. He stood aside to let her in, and then closed the door on Ron and Ginny without even looking at them. He quickly relocked the door, and then sat back down on his bed. Hermione sat tentatively beside him, watching him cautiously.

"Harry?" she asked quietly, placing a hand on his arm comfortingly. She took it as a good sign when he didn't shrug her off.

Tears were sliding down Harry's face again, although he was trying hard not to cry in front of Hermione.

"What's happened, Harry?" she prompted quietly.

"I…" he couldn't speak.

"Whatever has happened, you know I'm here for you."

"Yeah," he said, giving her a small, watery smile. She smiled back encouragingly.

Harry went back to silence, crying quietly without trying to curb it now. Hermione made small, soothing noises, her arm around him as he cried. He was thankful that he at least had someone who cared about him that he could talk to and be around. Eventually, he decided he had to tell her; she would know what to do. And so, in a rush, he blurted out what had happened, although he avoided telling her who it was he was upset about. He merely told her the situation, as opposed to the name.

"So," she said when he'd finished. "You think you're gay?"

Harry turned bright red at the word, and hung his head, but he nodded, once and quickly.

"There's nothing wrong with that, Harry. It doesn't matter to any of us whether you like boys or girls. It's your choice, and it's your life, and we'll always be here for you," she said, smiling reassuringly at him.

"It's not just that," he mumbled.

"I know. This boy, whoever he is, he doesn't feel the same way. But that's his loss Harry, and you can't stay in your dorm forever, because that means he has won. Don't let it get to you! There are plenty more fish in the sea, as my mother always says whenever my aunty comes round after another of her infamous break ups with her no good boyfriends. There are plenty more fish in the sea. Another boy will come along who'll catch your eye, and he'll like you back. But this person clearly isn't the right person for you."

"You don't understand," said Harry, looking at her desperately. He had a horrible feeling that he was going to have to tell her who it was.

"Then help I can," he whispered.

"You can tell me anything, Harry."

Another silence enveloped them, but Harry realised he couldn't stay silent forever. Slowly, his heart in his mouth, he whispered the name.

"Snape."

Hermione said nothing. She didn't mean to be, but she had been stunned into silence. No words came to her mind for how she could talk to Harry about this. Snape? _Severus Snape?_ But she had to find the words soon, because Harry was staring at her, looking hurt and confused. He needed her, and she couldn't very well shut up when that was the case. So she took a deep breath and tried to talk.

"Harry," she began, her voice sounding strange. "I… I know you think you… well, that you love Snape, but have you really considered that this can never happen?"

Harry visibly drooped, crying again.

"No, Harry, I'm sorry, it's just… well, he's a teacher, a fully grown man- old enough to be your father, the same _age_ as your father. The age difference is too much. And besides, it would be completely unprofessional, even if he did like you back, for him to act on those feelings. He'd be fired. Don't you see, Harry? It just can't be."

"I know it can't, but I still can't help hoping…"

"I know Harry. But you need to try to forget about your feelings for Snape. Don't attend his lessons for a while if you really don't feel you can, but don't give up on your life entirely just because one man doesn't feel the same way. Ron and I are here for you no matter what, but you have to let us be. You can't lock yourself in your dorm, or skip meals and break times and other things- you have to continue living. Show Snape he hasn't won. Show him you can survive even if your feelings are unrequited. You're _Harry Potter_. If you can defeat V-Voldemort, then you can defeat this."

As though the use of Voldemort's name has worked as a stimulant, Harry suddenly stopped crying. He wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks, and smiled tentatively at Hermione. She smiled back, and stood up, holding her hand out for him to take.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," she said, nodding towards the still locked door.

Harry nodded, took her hand, and unlocked the door. Ron fell through it, landing heavily on his side.

"Ooft!" he stuttered as he hit the floor.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Ronald!" berated Hermione, raising her eyebrows in astonishment and disapproval.

Ron smiled sheepishly from the floor.

"Alright, Harry?" he said, dragging himself back to his feet.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah. Bit winded, but I'm good. Come on then, let's go downstairs, yeah?"

Together, the headed down to the common room, telling amusing stories to make Harry laugh and reminiscing about their previous adventures at Hogwarts.

Harry was grateful that he had such amazing friends who cared for him and were there for him.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry knew that Hermione was right, and so he decided to attend the next potions lesson, although the very thought of it made him feel sick, shaky, scared. On the morning of the lesson, he couldn't eat. He could barely dress himself, he was shaking so badly. Ron had finally caught on that something was seriously bothering Harry, and was trying hard to make him feel better, keeping up a non-stop stream of jokes and trying to provoke discussion between them. Harry smiled feebly at the jokes, and answered in monosyllables to the discussion provocateurs, but otherwise he didn't speak much, or even give any indication that he was listening.

The smell of bacon in the Great Hall made Harry feel nauseas. He looked pale white and sweaty- an unattractive combination, and unattractive aspects individually. He didn't notice that for once Dumbledore was sitting in his usual place at the top table, talking animatedly with McGonagall. He sat down in between Ron and Hermione and tried to ignore the vast quantities of food they were putting onto his plate, trying to pretend it wasn't there so that he didn't throw up.

They had potions first thing, a double lesson. Hermione had to place her hand reassuringly on Harry's arm before he could even muster the courage to leave his seat, and when he did he nearly fell over; his legs seemed to have turned to jelly. Hermione linked arms with him, supporting him as they walked slowly down to the dungeons. They left with plenty of time, but only got there a minute or so before Snape swept out of his office. Harry stared determinedly at the hard, stone floor, pretending that he didn't care that the man he had a strong unrequited love for was standing only a few feet away.

Snape ushered them quickly into the room, sneering as he saw Harry. He made no comment however- at least not until the class was seated and quiet. Then Snape spoke, and his words cut into Harry like the piercing blade of a cold knife.

"So. The great Mr Potter, the so-called _Chosen One_, has decided to grace us all with his presence," said Snape slowly, deliberately drawing out the sentence.

The Slytherin students sniggered appreciatively, sneaking sly sideways glances at Harry. Harry remained staring at the table, as though he had been turned to stone. Hermione gazed at him, agonised, whilst Ron glared furiously at their cold professor.

"How gracious of you," he sneered, his lip curling in distaste.

Snape had enjoyed not having Harry in his lessons. He had enjoyed not having to see the impertinent child all over the school, and he cared not that Harry was in complete emotional agony at the current moment. He revelled in the fact that he, Severus Snape, was bringing such unhappiness and discomfort to the son of James Potter, his number one enemy when he himself had been in school. He did not consider that fact that this was also the son of Lily Evans, and that Harry had precisely the same eyes at Lily, in shape, colour, every aspect. He did not think about how hurt he had felt when Lily had stopped talking to him, or when Lily had started dating James, or when he heard the news that Lily was married, was pregnant… was dead… He ignored these facts, because the insolent boy looked so much more like Snape's enemy in school.

Snape began the lesson then, having humiliated Harry enough for the present moment, but he continued to pass close behind Harry during the entire lesson, and everytime he did, Harry dropped whatever he was holding. This resulted in, at the end of the lesson when Snape checked the potions, Harry's being a lumpy, conjealed, badly smelling mess, huddled at the bottom of the cauldron.

"This is unacceptable, Potter," hissed Snape, staring with disgust into the cauldron. "Did you follow the instructions at all?"

"Y… yes, Professor," stammered Harry, very quietly.

"Then why did your potion turn into this? I suggest, Potter, that you take appropriate care when making potions, and do not throw in the vials without thought. Need I remind you that this is a lesson, and I shall not have you focusing upon your own pathetic social life."

Harry blanched; Snape had known exactly what Harry was thinking throughout the entire lesson. Hermione glared at Snape, furiously, whilst Ron was biting hard on his tongue to stop himself yelling at him. Snape was looking at them all, and although he had a look of utter contempt on his pale, drawn face, he had a glimmer of triumph in his hard, black eyes.

"Get out of my classroom, Potter. And 20 points from Gryffindor for the abomination."

Harry grabbed his things and ran from the dungeon as quickly as his feet would carry him. Hermione and Ron followed quickly behind, but when they left the dungeon they realised that Harry had run off too quickly, and they had no idea where he had gone.

Albus was in his office again. He had seen Harry at breakfast, for the first time in a long time, but he had felt only concern for the wellbeing of the boy. Harry had looked incredibly ill when Albus had seen him, and the young boy hadn't touched anything on his plate. Albus had looked momentarily at Harry's close friends, Ron and Hermione, and noticed the worried looks on their faces as they watched over their friend. Albus had therefore deduced that Harry was incredibly upset about something, and in some kind of emotional turmoil. He also understood, from his reading of Muggle texts, that it would not have taken Sherlock to deduce this information.

**A/N: I would just like to take this moment to thank everyone who had reviewed/ favourited/ followed this story. I am glad that it is being received so well by the fanfiction public. Please continue the reviewing/favouriting/following- it always makes me smile when I log on to see that someone else had liked this! – Dementia xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

And so Harry disappeared. He did not resurface for a number of days, during which Ron and Hermione, although terrified at the fact that he had gone missing, held their tongues and did not inform anyone that they could not find him. The simple truth was, that although Harry Potter may have been the Chosen One, he was spending so little time out in public nowadays that they barely noticed his disappearance. Even the professors chose not to pursue it, deciding that he was probably just being difficult, and knowing he would reappear in his own time.

Reappear he did, although he looked much worse for wear when Ron and Hermione saw him again. It seemed he had been living in the room of requirement for the last few days, and that he had been sneaking out, under the cover of his invisibility cloak, to find food. However, it was clear that he had not been eating enough. His face was pale, drawn and haggard, and he seemed much weaker than usual. He had large, dark bags under his eyes, which were now dull and lifeless in his waxy face. Harry Potter had been broken, and he did not think that he could ever be fixed.

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron when Harry walked back into the common room during one of their quieter free periods.

"Blimey mate, you look awful!"

Hermione shot him a stern warning glance, and Ron quickly tried to fix his faux pas.

"Erm, I mean, it's good to see you again, mate," he said quickly; Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Harry, are you ok?" she asked quietly, closing her book and leaning towards her.

Harry did not reply. He had not spoken to anyone in the past few days, and had remained alone, crying himself to sleep. His throat was raw, and his mouth dry. He did not know if he had the ability to speak just yet. Therefore, he just shrugged his shoulders, and sank down into an arm chair besides the fire.

"Harry, Dumbledore's been looking for you," said Hermione after a moment of silence.

Harry looked quizzically at her, although he had no interest in his eyes.

"Yes, he told us we were to tell you that once you were feeling better, you were to go immediately to his office. I think he wants to talk to you about what happened…"

Hermione trailed off slowly, going red slightly and looking back down at her book, which she hastened to reopen. Harry said nothing, merely gazed into the fire. At length, he rose from the chair, and without saying a word, he left the common room. He was heading up to Dumbledore's study.

"Come in," called Albus when he heard to quiet knock on his door.

The door creaked open slowly, and he saw Harry peering into the room, looking tired and ill.

"Harry, my dear boy," said Albus, motioning to the seat in front of his desk.

Harry fell down into the seat gratefully, but did not make any eye contact with Albus, who had swept round the other side of the desk and was sitting in his large, slightly regal chair.

"Harry, what is the matter?" asked Albus, determined not to beat about the bush.

Harry still could not say anything, and so he remained silent, merely shaking his head.

"Harry, something has happened which has made you dreadfully unhappy. I wish to know what this something is."

Harry looked blankly at the floor.

"Please, Harry. Is it Sirius? Have you heard something concerning your godfather? I doubt this, for I would have heard it also, considering he is under my protection."

Harry remained silent.

"I have wondered if maybe you are having those strange dreams again, where you are seeing into Lord Voldemort's mind."

Harry said nothing.

"I decided that, should this be the case, I would have to arrange private lessons for you so that you might learn to block off your mind from Lord Voldemort."

Harry raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"I decided that if I were to do this it would be the best Occlumens in the school who would teach you. However, Professor Snape was more reluctant that I have ever seen him to take on extra responsibilities- Harry?"

Harry had blanched. He was staring now with pained eyes at the frail old wizard before him, wishing with all his heart that he would be quiet and never mention Snape's name again.

"Has something happened with Professor Snape?" asked Albus now, who had noticed Harry's reaction to the name.

Harry refused to answer, merely staring with an agonised expression.

"Am I to take it that Professor Snape is making life exceedingly difficult for you?"

Harry's vision was going blurrly as his eyes filled with anguished tears. Nevertheless, he blinked rapidly, refusing to let them spill.

"My dear boy," said Albus quietly, getting up and moving around the desk.

Albus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and was reassured when the boy did not throw it off.

"If something is wrong, you must tell me so that I might make it better," he explained carefully, speaking as though to someone on their death bead.

Harry shook his head, and the motion allowed a single tear to slide down his cheek.

Albus gazed at him, admiring the soft skin on which the crystal clear drop was rolling slowly, caressing the boy's skin. Albus was a grown man, he had years and years of experience, and yet he had no idea what to do in this situation. His brain, exceedingly smart as it was, was telling him to move away from Harry and dismiss him, then refuse to go near him again. His heart however was still that of an errant schoolboy, yearning for the forbidden fruit, telling him to do something about his feelings, to find if they were requited or not… but of course they're not, snapped his brain. Harry is a 15 year old school boy, he would not be interested in a wizened old prune like Albus. His heart could not accept this fact however, and Albus bent slowly, placing a tender kiss on Harry's head.

Harry jumped, shocked by the contact. He had not expected it. Pulling himself out of Albus's grip, he stood up, stepping back from the chair and from the professor, who was now looking at him with even more concern- although this time it was not concern for Harry, but concern that he had obviously done something wrong, and he had no idea how to rectify it. Harry looked at his headmaster, and felt pity surge through his heart. He knew what unrequited love felt like. He had no intentions to torture his professor in the same way that he was being tortured. And so, taking a deep breath, Harry stepped back towards Albus, placing his arms around his neck and kissing him tenderly on the lips.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry pulled away. After several tense moments in which neither of them spoke, he pushed his fringe back off his face in exasperation and sat down in his chair. Albus watched him cautiously, knowing exactly which direction this was going to go.

"Professor…" began Harry.

He stopped, not knowing what to say, then took a deep breath and began again.

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry, but this isn't right," he said softly, unable to look the old professor in the eyes. "I see you as a mentor, a father figure. This can't happen."

"Ah, Harry," sighed Albus, sitting down in his own chair, placing his elbows on the desk and placing his fingertips together. "You are a kind hearted soul. I knew this was a foolish thing to wish, yet my heart is still that of a boy. I understand why this cannot happen."

"I'm sorry, Professor," said Harry, feeling guilty.

"Do not be sorry, Harry. Things are, or things are not, and that is the way of the world. You are excused now."

Harry got up from his chair and headed towards the door. As he placed his hand on the handle, he turned and looked back at Albus, who was sitting gazing out of the window, deep in thought. Harry felt incredibly guilty, but knew he had done the right thing in explaining to his head teacher that what had happened was wrong, in the gentlest way he could.

As quietly as he could, Harry left the office, closing the door softly behind him. He let out a small sigh, and then turned to walk away- bumping into Snape as he did so.

Snape had decided to pay the head teacher a visit. He had not seen him in a long time, and had some issues he wished to discuss. However, upon reaching the office, he had seen, through a tiny crack in the unclosed door, Albus and Harry embracing. A deep heat had filled Snape's chest. He wanted to burst into the office and rip them apart, furious with them. He did not understand why he felt this way. But then they had broken apart, and Harry had explained that it couldn't happen. Snape had quietly closed the door fully, and had stepped back, intending to confront Harry when he left the room. Minutes later, Harry had emerged, looking sorrowful and ill. Snape had been shocked by how the boy looked- he had known of his disappearance for a few days, but Harry looked as though he hadn't eaten, slept, done anything for weeks. He was painfully thin, drawn and haggard looking, his eyes sunken slightly into his skull, his glasses slipping ever more down his scarily thin face. Snape fully understood for the first time the impact his actions had made on the boy.

"Mr Potter," he said, his lip curling.

Regardless of his sudden realisation, Snape could hardly change his mannerisms in just a few minutes, and so he sneered and looked scornful as usual.

"Professor," Harry croaked, looking terrified.

"Why were you in the head master's office?" asked Snape coldly.

"He asked to see me, Professor," replied Harry truthfully.

"What about?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, Professor," said Harry hoarsely.

"Excuse me?" hissed Snape, menace on his voice.

"I said I don't think it is any of your business, Professor."

"How dare you address me in such a manner, Potter? Impertinent, just as your father was before you! Got out of my sight," snapped Snape furiously, and Harry hastened away, head bent.

Snape watched him go, slightly regretfully. He knew now how much he had hurt Harry. He hadn't thought that he would take it to heart so, but for the past few weeks Harry had been skipping lessons and meals, and the past few days he had disappeared completely. Snape remembered now how he had felt when Lily rejected him and refused to go near him, talk to him or look at him. He remembered the burning feeling of humiliation and pain, when he'd found himself, for the first time in years, without Lily to talk to. He had looked into Harry's eyes moments ago and seen how Lily's eyes had looked when he had upset her, and his heart had almost stopped.

Snape swept away. He no longer wished to talk to Albus, and he knew that Albus was probably now incredibly preoccupied, too much so to focus on the problems of Snape, which now seemed so tiny and insignificant.

**A/N: Well, the last chapter certainly sparked some comments! Worry not, readers, I never intended for Harry and Dumbledore to become an item. However, I felt I owed you all another chapter quickly, so that you have something to placate you. I hope you enjoy it, and please continue to review! - Dementia**


	10. Chapter 10

Harry now spent his potions lessons outside next to the lake. Due to it now being spring, it was warmer outside, and although he sometimes did feel a bit cold, he refused to return to the dungeon. Hermione took copious notes for Harry to copy from, so that he still had some of the information from the lessons, whilst Ron moaned constantly about how Hermione never helped _him_. At these comments, Hermione would glare at Ron furiously before tossing her bushy hair over her shoulder and turning her back on him.

Albus had returned to his position as headmaster, as in he frequently was seen around the castle and in the Great Hall during meal times. He was often seen to be looking troubled, but he was happy enough to appear in public, and so nobody seemed to notice the extra frown lines that had appeared on his already wrinkled face.

Snape, meanwhile, had become more vindictive than ever. He spent a majority of his time stalking around the school, terrifying the first years into hysterics and generally being malicious. His fellow professors had never liked him particularly much as it was, but now they openly loathed him. Even the students of Slytherin house were suffering his wrath, and some of the less hard core Slytherin students had grown to dislike him immensely. Draco Malfoy was even heard remarking on Snape's behaviour with his usual "wait until my father hears about this" catchphrase.

The reason for Snape's severe mood was unknown to any except the man himself. He had recently, ever since seeing Harry outside of Dumbledore's office, been feeling extreme guilt. This guilt was keeping him awake at night, and the fact that he was so sleep deprived only added to his negative mood. He had begun to remember how he had felt when Lily had cut him out of her life, and how he had felt when she had started dating Potter. He remembered the horrible sick feeling he had constantly felt, as though there was a hole in his stomach. He remembered sitting in his dormitory alone, sobs wrenched from his skinny teenage body in such an agonising manner that he felt as though his heart was trying to escape from his chest. He had felt scared at some points that it actually would manage to break free from his chest, and sometimes he even welcomed the thought, provided it would stop his agony. He had recognised himself in Harry when he had seen him recently. He understood suddenly how his cruel actions had affected the boy, and it was for these reasons that Severus Snape felt guilty about causing pain and anguish to the offspring of James Potter.

**A/N: Just a short chapter this week, folks. A little filler chapter to lead up to what is to come. Thank you so much for your continued support! Nearly 50 followers, I'm speechless! All I can really say is thank you! - Dementia**


	11. Chapter 11

"Professor!" Harry gasped, trying not to cry out as the unfamiliar fullness ripped through him.

He was on his knees on the cold floor, but the uncomfortable position was nothing- he could barely think straight enough to realise where he was. The only thing he knew was that his love was taking him from behind, raking his nails down Harry's back and gasping his hips and he rammed himself harder and further inside of the boy, making him gasp from pain- but mainly from exhilaration.

"Quiet, Potter," he whispered, grasping a handful of Harry's hair and pulling, tilting his head back; it hurt, and Harry moaned quietly, biting his lip as he tried to keep from getting louder.

How had it come to this point? Snape had always made a point of humiliating Harry, making him feel small, and yet now Harry was on his hands and knees in Snape's office in the dungeons, completely and blissfully unaware of the dank surroundings as Snape thrust with needy force into him. Harry had never felt so alive, despite what was happening being wrong- Snape was his professor, not his lover… and yet, here they were.

Snape got faster, panting quickly, pulling Harry to meet him as they moved together in perfect synchronisation. Snape stilled suddenly, letting out a low moan as he emptied himself into the boy, who simultaneously came in a hot, passionate rush. Both of them stilled, panting, sweat beading on their bodies. Snape pulled himself carefully out of Harry and leant against his desk, breathing heavily.

Harry leaned backwards and sank into a sitting position, but he kept from touching the floor with his bare backside- now that the euphoric rush of their sexual embrace was ebbing slightly, he could feel the pain radiating in regular waves. He winced slightly as he leant back on his heels, and glanced at Snape, who was watching him from behind his dark hair, a smirk playing on his lips.

Harry recalled to his memory how this had come about. He recalled watching from dark corners in the corridors as Snape prowled around, making first years squeal and scamper in the opposite direction when they saw him headed towards them. He had admired the proud majesty of his potions master, fantasising about Snape being his master in other ways.

He remembered how he had tried to quietly sneak away from his corner, something he had mastered so many times before- but this time, he was caught. It was late in the afternoon, almost time for dinner, and Harry was, for once, feeling slightly hungry. He had decided to ignore the burning shame he still felt when he remembered the scene during his detention with Snape, and had decided he was feeling partial to a small slice of treacle tart. However, Snape had already seen Harry hidden in the corner that afternoon, and after a long couple of hours of wrestling with himself, he had decided that he must act on the confused mass of feelings that had been growing daily throughout the past few weeks, ever since he had seen the broken boy outside of Dumbledore's office.

"Potter!" Snape had barked as Harry tried to sneak away from the corner.

Harry had jumped, terrified. He turned slowly to face the menacing professor, what little colour that still remained in his pallid cheeks draining until he looked like one of the Hogwarts ghosts- only not as transparent, of course.

"What are you doing skulking around the corridors when you should be in the Great Hall, Potter?" Snape had asked, his cold voice reverberating around the empty corridor.

"I was on my way down to the Great Hall, Professor," Harry had whispered, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Don't. Lie. To me," Snape had hissed menacingly. "My office, now."

Harry had blanched, but had complied- he had no fight in him. He followed Snape down the winding corridors towards the dungeons, feeling almost petrified. What had he done wrong, really? Why was Snape making him go down to his office? He kept his fists clenched, willing himself not to tremble and thus exhibit the fear he was feeling, but he found this very difficult, particularly when Snape closed and locked the door to his office and turned slowly to face him.

"Do not think into this, Potter. I do not understand why I feel like this, but I must act on it. It is a one-time thing- I repeat, _do not_ think into it. Do you understand me, Potter?" Snape had said quietly, and his voice had seemed to change- it sent a different type of trembles through Harry's body.

"Yes, Professor," Harry had said, sounding confused.

"Good," Snape had said, and he had let his cloak drop and advanced without even a trace on hesitation until Harry was directly in front of him, only a little bit smaller than him.

Harry smiled at he recalled how it had all happened, and glanced again at Snape, who was still breathing deeply, although it had slowed now. Harry didn't feel hungry anymore. Any thoughts of treacle tart had gone from his mind. All that he could think of now was what had just transpired between himself and Snape.

"Remember Potter," breathed Snape, dark eyes glinting behind his hair, which was still partially obscuring his face. "A one-time thing."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry.

"You must leave now, Potter. We must not have people wondering where you have gotten to."

"Of course, Professor," said Harry, feeling his heart drop- surely, once he left the dungeon, his incredibly evening would be just another memory; if it truly was a one-time thing, then this was his only chance to be in such a situation with the man he loved.

"Now, Potter!" snapped Snape, his smirk turning to a scowl.

Harry recognised the dismissal as being un-negotiable, and unsteadily got to his feet. He began to pull his robes back on, not looking at Snape, who remained watching him with a blank expression on his face now.

"Goodnight, Professor," said Harry once he was dressed.

Snape did not respond, but merely flicked his wand and unlocked the door to the office, allowing for Harry to leave. Harry did so without hesitation, scared to remain in the office now that Snape had turned so cold again so quickly.

He walked carefully along the corridors back to his dormitory, avoiding coming into contact with other students and keeping to the shadows and less used corridors. He reached the dormitory without having any knowledge of how much time had passed since Snape had discovered him trying to sneak out of the corridor earlier that day, and was shocked to find that the fire was burning low in the grate, and only Ron and Hermione remained in the common room, both of them dozing in armchairs next to the waning flames.

He was unsure of whether he sound wake them or not, and spent a further 10 minutes watching them breathing calmly and deeply. He reasoned that it would be unfair to let them remain in the armchairs, unsure of whether or not he had returned to the common room, and so roused them from their sleeps.

"Harry?" Hermione mumbled as Harry gently shook her awake. "Where have you been?"

"Wha- what's going o-o-on?" asked Ron, stifling a yawn and rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry I wasn't at dinner," Harry said quietly. "I decided to go for a walk- lost track of time."

"Oh Harry," said Hermione, pity in her eyes. She still thought that Snape despised Harry, and felt so sorry for him.

"I'm ok, Hermione," said Harry, smiling slightly.

"You are?" she said sceptically.

"Yeah. Better than I've been in a while. The…walk, cleared my head. It gave me time to think. Come on, you two- it's late. Let's get some sleep."

Ron got to his feet willingly enough and slouched off to bed, still yawning. Hermione got up more slowly, and looked at Harry in a way that reminded him of Dumbledore- it was the same searching look that made Harry feel uncomfortable, as though his soul was being examined.

"You're really ok?" she asked, bending down and picking up one of her books which had fallen on the floor, never taking her eyes off Harry.

"I'm really ok, Hermione," he smiled, and she smiled hesitantly back, still not looking as though she believed him.

Not wanting to stay in her sceptical company any longer, Harry feigned a yawn, and headed off towards his dormitory.

"Well, night, Hermione," he said, starting up the stairs.

Hermione did not reply, and it wasn't until much later, when Harry was lying awake in his bed, slightly uncomfortable but feeling more elated than he ever had, that he heard her ascend the stairs to her own dormitory. Harry sighed and smiled to himself.

That night, he slept properly for the first time in months.

**A/N: I'm sorry I haven't updated in a little bit, I've been on my Easter holidays and have spent a lot of the past couple of weeks not getting up until 3pm! Thank you to everyone who is still reading this fic, I hope this chapter makes up for the exceptionally short last chapter and the delay in the posting of this one. - Dementia**


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